Fanny's Plot
by HarnGin
Summary: Fanny Bennet hatches a plot to get rid of her least favorite daughters in the belief that, without them around to vex her, she will be able to produce an heir for Longbourn.
1. Chapter 1: A Letter Arrives

Chapter 1: A Letter Arrives

Simon Grey, Marquess of Weston, looked up as his butler entered his study.

"An express for you, my lord," said the butler gravely.

"Thank you, Chalmers," replied the marquess.

Quickly, the marquess broke the seal and began reading the letter. It was on the letterhead of a law firm headquartered in a small market town in Hertfordshire. The letter informed him of the tragic deaths of a couple and their infant daughter as the result of a collision between their carriage and a carrier wagon belonging to a furniture merchant. Due to the July heat, the deceased had been quickly interred although their identities were unknown. The reason the correspondent, a Mr. Desmond Gardiner, was contacting the marquess was that, before he died, the husband had implored the attending physician to see that the couple's three daughters, believed to be aged two, three, and four, who, fortunately suffered only minor injuries in the accident, were gotten to his brother. The man had then said, "Get my girls to the Marquess of Weston." Unfortunately, those were the man's last words. The attorney had been asked by the physician to contact the marquess for instructions related to the children, currently being cared for by a former governess who had retired to the area.

Weston was understandably confused. His own unmarried and childless brother had been killed while serving in his majesty's army in France. His sister, Ellen and her husband, the Earl of Matlock, had three children, but the only girl was almost seven; the two boys were even older. The children of the marchioness's elder brother, Viscount Sanderson, and his wife were all boys. His wife's younger sister and husband, Viscount Boyington, had only recently married. Could the man have been his wife's younger brother? Benedict Hamilton had left university for a grand tour just before the war with Napoleon had spread to Spain and not been heard from since. It was believed the young man had perished, but, perhaps, he had married and somehow found his way back to England. If so, though, why had he not contacted his parents?

Weston decided it would be prudent to discuss this matter with his father, the fourth Duke of Wyndom, before replying to the attorney. He was soon mounted on his favorite horse and headed the short distance that separated his townhouse, inherited from his paternal grandfather, to the duke's.

After greeting his parents upon his arrival and requesting a private word with his sire, Weston took his customary seat in the library and, after being offered and accepting a drink, informed his father of the letter and his speculations. The duke quickly perused the letter for himself.

"Could not the man be some friend of Matlock's or Sanderson's," asked the duke, referring to the spouses of Weston's elder sister and his wife's brother. "For that matter, it could be a friend of Boyington's," concluded the elder gentleman meaning Weston's newest brother-in-law.

"Other than Boyington who is still on his wedding trip," replied his scion, "I cannot think why anyone would want me to transport children to one of my brothers. Though I suppose it could be the brother of some other friend or acquaintance. I just cannot think of who it could be."

"The only thing you can do, my son, is arrange for the transport of these girls to a respectable home and hope some relative comes to claim them," remarked the duke.

"But, father," questioned his son, "What if they _are_ Benedict Hamilton's children? Wouldn't Bainbridge want his granddaughters or Sanderson his nieces? With the recent loss of our own daughters, even my marchioness might want the girls."

"Though I agree that, with the loss of dear Holly and Ivy, Lady Judith is very likely to want to raise these girls, I must ask, if they are Hamilton's children, why would he not want them sent to his father or brother? Why you? And, if you were to take them in, what if you never find proof of their parentage? Or worse, what if you and Lady Judith took them in and raised them as your own nieces and six months or a year later, their real uncle came forward? Think about how difficult it would be to give them up! If no one ever claimed them, would you want the expense of raising and dowering three girls completely unconnected to you," responded the duke. "Would Bainbridge or Sanderson?"

The duke sighed, "I cannot tell you what to do, son, but, if it were up to me, I would have the girls brought to one of my minor properties and pay to have them raised by a local farmer. In a few years, she and her sisters will have forgotten their real parents, especially since, if the eldest is only four, she may not even know her last name. It is doubtful she knows her father's or mother's names either. Provide them with doweries of £100 each, and the farmer will be able to find them decent husbands of their own when the time comes."

"But, at the same time, if they _are_ Hamilton's daughters, they deserve their share of his eventual inheritance from Bainbridge," countered the marquess. "My father-in-law has fervently stated that his will gives Hamilton or his heirs 50 years after his death to claim their inheritance. He refuses to write his younger son off until he has proof of death."

The marquess ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. "I just cannot take the chance that these girls are not family. I keep picturing Holly and Ivy. If, somehow, they had survived the accident and were found alive, I would hope that someone would care for them and try to find us, and, if they were unable, would love and raise them as their own."

"Do this," suggested the duke, "speak to Bainbridge. If it's possible they are Hamilton's children, he deserves to have a say. If he agrees, have the girls brought to my sister's old cottage outside of Ware. Let Bainbridge determine if he thinks they _could_ be his granddaughters. Then, decide together what to do. If Bainbridge does not believe they belong to Hamilton, the caretaker and his wife would surely agree to care for the girls if you provide a nurse and a maid along with a stipend for their care. Then, put notices in the major newspapers, send out investigators, do whatever you think is necessary to uncover anyone who could be the girls' family. If, after six months or a year, you have not located any family, we can revisit what to do with them."

"Thank you, father," replied Weston gratefully. "I'll go there next."

Soon, the marquess was knocking on the door of his father-in-law's London townhouse. After being shown in and announced by the butler, Weston exchanged greetings and pleasantries with his in-laws before requesting a private interview with the Earl of Bainbridge. Producing the letter, the younger man encouraged his father-in-law to read it before hesitantly making the suggestion that the girls could be Hamilton's. Naturally, the earl was shocked at the suggestion, but, with the few details contained in the letter, he, like Weston, could only speculate. Then, Weston outlined his father's idea for meeting the girls and arranging their care. The earl agreed with the duke's plan, and, before long, a letter was dispatched to the law offices of Gardiner, Thurston, and Phillips.


	2. Chapter 2: A Plot Is Enacted

Chapter 2: A Plot Is Enacted

Unbeknownst to her husband, Grace Phillips was on the look-out for a letter addressed to her late father from the Marquess of Weston. When it arrived, she quickly secreted it in her pocket and hurried to call her carriage to take her to her sister, Frances, affectionately called Fanny, Bennet's house. Using the excuse of enjoying the slight breeze to be found outside, the two sisters availed themselves of the most shaded bench in the farthest corner of the Bennet garden, a spot chosen for its distance from the house and the privacy granted by the surrounding summer foliage. Mrs. Bennet quickly open the letter, laughed, and squealed. "He's going to take them!"

"Shh, sister," cautioned Mrs. Phillips. "Someone might hear you."

Mrs. Bennet quieted herself with great effort before replying in a more carefully modulated voice, "He's going to send a carriage with a nursemaid on Friday. He requires directions to the coaching stop in Hatfield as he says it's on the way to Ware, where he is spending the summer." Mrs. Bennet grabbed her sister's hands and added gleefully, "In three days, they'll be gone!"

Mrs. Phillips frowned, "Fanny, are you absolutely sure you wish to do this? I mean, I can take the girls in if you'd rather."

"No! They've got to go," exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "I'm sure if I can get rid of those three, it will calm my nerves enough to let me conceive an heir. If I let you take them, Mr. Bennet will have those girls back at Longbourn before you can say, 'entailment.' The marquess and his wife will take good care of them; I'm sure of it. But, Gracie, you can never tell a soul what we've done."

"All right, sister," agreed Mrs. Phillips reluctantly. "How are we going to get them to Hatfield?"

"I've already thought of that," replied Mrs. Bennet. "We'll put out that the girls are going to stay with our brother in London and that they're spending the night with you. Widow Canty's niece is going to London to order her wedding clothes. I'll give her £5*, and she'll take the girls to the Hatfield coaching station in your carriage and hand them over to whoever the marquess sends. You'll give the girls a bit of brandy in their milk before they leave your house, and they'll sleep the whole way to Ware. Your driver and footmen will see Miss Canty and the girls into the inn and bring back your carriage.

"Everyone will think the girls have gone on to London with Miss Canty. The girls won't be missed until Edward comes to visit at Christmas. By then, Miss Canty will be married and moved to Liverpool, and everyone in Meryton will believe the girls to be in London with our brother and his dear wife. We will be terribly upset and cause all kinds of noise until we have to give in and decide the girls are lost forever."

"And what of Mr. Bennet," asked Mrs. Phillips. "Won't he wonder about the girls when he comes home next week?"

"I have thought of that, too," said Mrs. Bennet smugly. "I need you to get a fresh leg of lamb from the butcher on the morning the girls are to leave. Wrap it up in a sheet and bring it to Longbourn as soon as you get a message that I am taken ill and need you. Make sure it doesn't leak on the way and that no one notices that you're carrying it. Smuggle it up to my bedroom. We're going to use the lamb's blood and the sheet to pretend I've miscarried. You, as my loving sister, will dispose of the 'mess.' You can burn the sheet, my night rail, and any towels and cloths we can make bloody. Be sure the servants see the bloodstains first, though. Later, you can throw the meat in the woods.

"You'll spread the word that I'm indisposed and unable to see visitors. I'll be so upset that only you can look after me for the next few days, which will keep Hill out of the way. Then, when Mr. Bennet gets home, you'll tell him the bad news. He desperately wants an heir and will be very upset about the loss. It will take him several days to miss the girls. When he asks, you'll tell him that you sent them to our brother because their noise was getting on my nerves. He'll never need to know that we sent them before there was any 'trouble.'"

"And, when our brother comes at Christmas and has no knowledge that he's supposed to be looking after Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty? What will you say then," demanded Mrs. Phillips who was secretly very impressed with her younger sister's planning.

"You'll send him a letter telling him I'm ill the same day the girls leave. In it, you'll say that, if you have to you'll send them to him along with a tenant's daughter who's on her way to Ramsgate to take up a position. That way, he'll be alerted that they may be coming but will not be alarmed when they do not arrive," explained Mrs. Bennet.

The scary part of this whole diabolical plan was that it worked. Just as Mrs. Bennet had predicted, having lost her two daughters in a boating accident, the Marchioness of Weston demanded to take in the three girls and raise them as her own. Her father went to his grave believing that the girls had the Hamilton family's green eyes and dark brown, unruly curls and were undoubtedly his late son's daughters. The marquess was less sure, but when Lizzy said her papa's name was Bindit and her mama's name was Fwannie, even he had to agree it was possible the children's father was Benedict Hamilton. The family told everyone who asked that the girls were the children of Benedict and Frances Hamilton.

 **Time Line**

1792 (November) Lizzy's birth

1793 (July) Mary's birth

1794 (May) Kitty's birth

1797 (July) Girls disappear

*£5 in 1811 would be worth nearly £392 in 2018.


	3. Chapter 3: Life Goes on

Chapter 3: Life Goes on

On the one-year anniversary of the day the girls assumed to be Elizabeth, Marianne*, and Katherine Hamilton arrived in Ware, the Earl and Countess of Bainbridge decided to visit what they believed to be their son, daughter-in-law, and infant granddaughter's final resting place. When they inquired at the church, the curate directed them to a shaded grave with a simple wooden marker that read, "Unknown family killed in carriage accident July 1797." Two months later, a new, well-made tombstone replaced the previous marker. The top line read, "July 1797." Below that was "Here lie Benedict, Frances, and Baby Girl Hamilton**, Beloved Parents and Sister of Elizabeth, Marianne, and Katherine."

The Westons gave the former Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty Bennet a magical childhood. Their Uncle and Aunt Weston showered them with all the love, care, and attention any child could want or need. The girls adored and were adored by their many uncles, aunts, and cousins and two sets (one honorary) of grandparents. Eventually, Elizabeth was introduced to her Uncle Matlock's nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy. They married six months later. Marianne and her cousin Alexander Grey, eldest son of her Uncle and Aunt Weston married two years after the Darcys. Katherine eventually married a grandson of her Grandfather Bainbridge's sister. Surprisingly, the two had never met before Katherine's debutante ball.

And what of the Bennets? For the most part, Fanny's plan worked perfectly. To her secret delight, five months passed before anyone realized Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty Bennet were missing. By then, even the best investigators Mr. Gardiner's money could hire could find no trace of them.

The former Miss Canty and her new husband emigrated to Canada. Two years after a letter asking for information about the girls had been sent across the Atlantic, a reply came back saying that the former Miss Canty had put the girls into a carriage whose driver said it was sent by their uncle. A maid had helped her with the sleeping children before the driver had kindly offered Miss Canty a lift, but, since she had already purchased her ticket to London, she had refused, and the carriage containing the three Bennet girls and an unknown maid left just as the London-bound coach had arrived at the inn.

Eventually, Mr. Bennet and the Gardiners gave up their search for the Bennet daughters. They put up a memorial stone in the Bennet plot in the Meryton Church Cemetery that read, "In Memory of Elizabeth Rose, Mary Anne, and Catherine Grace Bennet, July 1797."

The one flaw in Mrs. Bennet's plan was that she was never able to conceive another child. Mrs. Phillips secretly believed her sister's infertility was a judgement for the plot that led to the "disappearance" of the three Bennet girls. Fanny Bennet never regretted the "loss" of her middle daughters though, whenever they were mentioned, she carried on as if she did.

In the autumn some fifteen years after the middle Bennet girls' disappearance, a Mr. Bingley leased the nearby estate of Netherfield Park. With him came his sister and brother-in-law, Louisa and Randolf Hurst, and his newly-wedded friends Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy. Mrs. Darcy's resemblance to Mr. Bennet terrified Mrs. Bennet. Fortunately, her husband never noticed the likeness. Several other residents of Meryton did, however, but careful questioning determined Mrs. Darcy to be the former Miss Hamilton, granddaughter of the Earl of Bainbridge, who, after the deaths of her parents, had lived in Nottingham and London, and who, to her knowledge, had never before been to Hertfordshire, and, so, the resemblance was deemed coincidental.

When Mr. Bingley failed to propose to Jane Bennet before quitting Netherfield just before Christmas that year, Mrs. Bennet panicked. Fearing the hedgerows as she always had, Mrs. Bennet forced her eldest daughter to marry her husband's heir, a Mr. William Collins. The couple moved to Hunsford in Kent, where Mr. Collins served as rector to Mr. Darcy's aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Each Easter, the Darcys traveled to Kent to visit Lady Catherine and her daughter, Anne, and, occasionally, encountered the rector and his family, but other than exchanging banal pleasantries, had little interaction with the patently ill-suited Mr. and Mrs. Collins or their son, whose birth within the first year of the couple's marriage broke the entailment on Longbourn.

The following summer, fifteen-year-old Lydia Bennet ran off with a militia officer and was never seen or heard from again. Mrs. Bennet passed away from a combination of grief and shame eight months later. Eventually, Mr. Bennet's failing health led the Collins family to move to Meryton to care for him and the estate.

Ten years later, when Mr. Bennet was finally laid to rest next to his wife, Mr. Collins noticed the memorial stone and questioned his wife. She explained all she knew about the disappearance of her sisters, never realizing that, during the couple's residence in Kent, she had been in her sister Lizzy's company every spring.

 **Time Line**

1792 (November) Lizzy's birth

1793 (July) Mary's birth

1794 (May) Kitty's birth

1797 (July) Girls disappear

1811 (September 30) Bingley leases Netherfield

1812 (February) Jane marries Cousin Collins and moves to Kent

1812 (Easter) The Darcys visit Rosings Park

1812 (June) Lydia elopes/disappears

1812 (December) Jane's son's birth

1813 (February) Mrs. Bennet dies

1823 (November) Mr. Bennet dies

*Mary insisted on calling herself what sounded to the adults like "Mawy Yan." She was most likely trying to say "Mary Anne," a first and middle name, which a vexed Mrs. Bennet would have likely often used. The adults decided she must be named either "Marion" or "Marianne." Lady Bainbridge's name was "Marianne," and, so, they assume their late son named his second child after his mother.

**When questioned, Lizzy and Mary admitted to having a baby sister. They called her "Widdie," which the adults believed to be a mispronunciation of "little." With no idea of what the child's name could be (or if she'd been christened), Lord and Lady Bainbridge settled on "Baby Girl Hamilton" for the grave marker.


	4. Chapter 4: Revelations

Chapter 4: Revelations

When Mrs. Phillips passed away six months after her brother-in-law, her diaries were found by a curious seventeen-year-old Emily Gardiner, her brother's youngest daughter. Emily's name had been chosen to honor the cousins she would never know since it contained the "EL" from Elizabeth, "M" from Mary, and "IY" from Kitty. The youngest Miss Gardiner's fascination with the mystery of her cousins' disappearance had given rise to an overwhelming curiosity to learn everything she could about the missing relatives for whom she had been named.

After arriving home in London with her late aunt's diaries, Emily quickly located the volumes for the year 1797 and skimmed until she found an entry for June 12th of that year. Glued to the diary page was a newspaper story from the _London Times_ detailing the deaths of the young daughters of a Marquess and Marchioness of Weston. According to the article, the girls had drowned when a dock they were standing on collapsed. On the June 30th entry, another carefully glued newspaper clipping, this time from the _Hatfield Gazette_ ,reported a carriage accident. In this story, an unknown couple and an infant had been traveling in Hatfield when their carriage was struck by a carrier wagon. All three were instantly killed along with the wagon's driver. Thinking it curious that her aunt had kept two news stories completely unrelated to her family, Emily continued reading about very boring, day-to-day happenings and village gossip until the July 2nd entry.

According to her Aunt Phillips, on July 2nd, Aunt Bennet had convinced her sister to write and send a letter via express to the Marquess of Weston. Mrs. Phillips had used their late father's business stationery and forged his signature as the sender. Mrs. Phillips had carefully copied the letter's contents into her diary. Then, on July 5th, the marquess had written back. Mrs. Phillips had placed the marquess's letter between the pages of her diary alongside a copy of the letter she had forged in reply.

The more Emily read, the more horrified she became. She now knew how her cousins had disappeared. Her aunts had committed a terrible crime against both their family and the family of the marquess. But, wondered Emily, had the marquess believed the girls to be his nieces or had he realized they were not his family and put them in an orphanage or a work house? Had he or someone else in the family raised them? Where were her cousins now?

Emily knew she needed to tell someone what she had learned but whom? Her mother? Her father? Both of them? Her cousin Jane? She finally decided to tell her parents and let them decide if her cousin needed to be informed.

On the one hand, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were as horrified to read the contents of the diary as their daughter had been. On the other, they were relieved to learn exactly what had happened. Mrs. Gardiner had expressed her surprise at Fanny Bennet's meticulous planning. Mr. Gardiner felt sick that his sisters had conceived and carried out such a cruel, horrific plot.

What, they asked each other, should they do with the information? Should they contact the marquess? Was he even still alive after all this time? Would he believe them? Would he want compensation? Mr. Gardiner was frankly relieved that both his sisters were dead since, not only could he not kill them himself for doing such a thing, but they could not be hanged for defrauding a peer. He was also thankful that both his brothers-in-law had died without ever learning of their wives' perfidy.

Finally, the Gardiners agreed Mr. Gardiner needed to meet with the marquess to learn the ultimate fate of their nieces. Like Emily, they worried he might have uncovered the deception and, without knowing to whom to return the girls, have put them in an orphanage or given them to a tenant to raise. What if he had separated the girls into different homes? Where were the girls now? Were they happy? They had to know more.

The next morning, Mr. Gardiner wrote a letter to the Marquess of Weston explaining who he was and asking for an appointment to discuss an event occurring in 1797. Mr. Gardiner assumed that, once the marquess read the date, he would know exactly why this unknown merchant was requesting an audience. Had Edward Gardiner consulted _DeBrett's_ before writing his letter, it would have been addressed differently. After all, 27 years had passed since his sister had sent a forged letter to a marquess and the marquess of 1797 was now a duke.

Two days later, Alexander Grey, Marquess of Weston, was confused to receive a letter from an unknown import/export dealer regarding the year 1797. In 1797, Alex had been a 14-year-old schoolboy. Obviously, this letter had been intended for his father. Alex quickly scribbled a note explaining why Mr. Gardiner's opened letter was being forwarded and then requested a footman deliver it to his grace's house across the square.

The fifth Duke of Bainbridge was surprised to receive a note from his eldest son indicating that a letter mistakenly addressed to Weston should have been sent to Bainbridge. Upon reading the enclosed letter, however, Bainbridge recognized the name "Gardiner" and knew exactly what event this Edward Gardiner was alluding to while wondering if an attempt at blackmail was about to follow.

Simon Grey, however, was as powerful as he was curious and had no fear about meeting with this Mr. Gardiner. He penned a note explaining the change of title and offering a meeting date and time. Gardiner had offered his own offices as a meeting place, but the duke had countered with Windmere House, the duke's London residence.

Edward Gardiner was not a stupid man. He realized the duke's reasons for meeting an unknown man in at Windmere House rather than an office building near Cheapside. He sent a reply agreeing to the change of venue, and, half an hour before the scheduled meeting settled himself in his carriage for the ride to Mayfair. In his briefcase, Gardiner carried the diary Emily had found. Bookmarks had been placed on the pages relevant to the meeting that was to come.

After arriving at Windmere House and being shown into the duke's study by the butler, Mr. Gardiner and the duke exchanged pleasantries before the businessman nervously began his story. "My eldest sister, Mrs. Grace Phillips, recently passed away," he announced. Noting the black armband his guest wore, the duke offered his condolences and, after thanking him, Gardiner continued, "Since her own husband predeceased her and they had no children, my daughter, Emily, helped to sort through her aunt's things. Emily found this diary for the year 1797."

Gardiner handed the duke the diary. "As you can see, we have marked several entries. I believe you will find them interesting reading," he concluded.

Bainbridge opened the diary to the first marked entry, the one detailing his daughters' deaths. He inhaled deeply as long-buried grief hit him anew. After taking a few moments to compose himself, he turned to the page with the carriage accident entry. As he made his way through the diary, he read about the forging of the first letter, saw the letter he had sent in reply, and then he read about Fanny Bennet's plan and how the two women had conspired to rid the one of her children and foist them off on his own family. For a brief moment, Bainbridge forgot how much he and his family adored their Elizabeth, Marianne, and Katherine. He forgot that Marianne was his own daughter-in-law and the mother of several of his grandchildren. For that brief period in time, he was furiously angry at Fanny Bennet and Grace Phillips and wanted to do them both a harm. It truly was only a brief moment, however, as memories of the joy those three little girls, now grown women, had brought and still continued to bring into his and his family's lives overtook him. "What do you want from me," he asked quietly.

Gardiner sat up straight and replied in an open, honest tone, "We only want to know what happened to the girls after they came to you. We want to know if they are still alive, if they are happy, if they need us."

Bainbridge gave a slight smile, "That is all? You don't want money to keep quiet or my investment in your business?"

Affronted, Gardiner firmly replied, "No, your grace. I am a wealthy man and have no need of investors. My wife and I just want to know that the girls are safe and well. You see, sir, other than their older sister Jane, my wife and myself are the only family members left who remember our Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty. Their cousins are too young, their parents are dead, and, unfortunately, their baby sister eloped twelve years ago, and we've not heard from her since. We just want information. That is all."

"They have other sisters," inquired the duke, surprised.

"Jane and Lydia," responded Gardiner. "Jane is nearly three years older than Lizzy, and Lydia is...was…would be two years younger than Kitty."

"And your sisters didn't try to get rid of those two as well? Why not," asked the duke.

Gardiner shifted uncomfortably in his chair before deciding to give an honest answer, "Jane and Lydia were Fanny's favorites. She believed Lizzy was too inquisitive; Mary was too plain; and Kitty was in the way. Truthfully, Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty looked like their father while Jane and Lydia resembled Fanny."

"And you never tried to find your nieces," stated the duke.

"Oh, we tried," exclaimed Gardiner. "It's just that, by the time we realized we needed to be looking, all the witnesses and clues were gone."

"Just how long did it take for your family to realize your nieces were missing," asked the duke.

"Five months," answered Gardiner.

"Three little girls were gone from their home for five months and no one went looking for them? Unbelievable," derided Bainbridge.

"Your grace," Gardiner replied, heatedly, "My brothers-in-law believed the tale their wives spun that the girls were with me in London. As you can see from the diary, I received a letter saying that, if it proved necessary, a tenant traveling south would bring the girls to me for a short stay. When the girls did not arrive, I assumed the crisis had passed, and they were safe at home. I have berated myself for nearly 30 years because I didn't immediately follow up on my sister's note. Please, your grace, if you have any information about what happened to Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty, please, please, tell me."

Bainbridge stared intently at his guest for several seconds before standing and saying, "Come with me, Mr. Gardiner."

Gardiner followed the duke from the study up one flight of stairs into a long gallery filled with paintings. Bainbridge paused in front of a grouping that Gardiner could not see well from where he was standing.

"These are my nieces, Elizabeth, Marianne, and Katherine Hamilton. It was painted not long after they came to us after the deaths of their parents," stated the duke as he moved to allow his guest to see a portrait of three small girls Gardiner immediately recognized. The duke pointed at another portrait, this time it was a beautiful young woman of about 17 in court dress. "Here you see Elizabeth in her presentation gown. How she hated that dress! Her grandmother insisted she wear it for this portrait. Marianne," he continued indicating the next portrait depicting a girl of a similar age seated at a pianoforte, "is very musical and insisted that her birthday present be included in her portrait. Katherine has always been horse mad," he finished as the men stood before yet another portrait this one of a young lady in a riding habit seated on a magnificent chestnut stallion.

Gardiner stared at the paintings unconsciously attempting to memorize every detail of his long-missing nieces. "You kept them? You raised them as family," he asked faintly.

"As far as we could determine, they _were_ family," replied the duke. "Elizabeth gave her father's name as Bindit. My wife's younger brother, Benedict Hamilton, disappeared during his grand tour when war with France spread to Spain. It was possible that he'd recently returned to England and was seeking out his family. My late father-in-law insisted that all three girls had the Hamilton eyes and hair. My in-laws lived happier believing they had three pieces of their younger son back, and, I admit, we all quickly fell in love with those little imps."

The now elderly man smiled at his "nieces," before turning back to his guest, "Now, Gardiner, what do you intend to do with the knowledge you have? Do you wish to confront them? Tell them all about their mother and aunt abandoning them?"

"No, sir! We just wanted to know what had become of them. It is obvious you have given them a much better life than they would have had with their own parents. Lizzy might have hated that dress, but she looks so happy. They all three do. No, we don't want to interfere in their lives or destroy their childhood. We just needed to know they weren't lying dead in a potter's field somewhere," concluded Mr. Gardiner.

"I will tell you a bit more if you'd like to return to my study," offered the duke.

"I'd like that," agreed Gardiner.

Once the men were again ensconced in the study, each with a tumbler of port in his hand, the duke said, "Elizabeth married at 18 in 1811. She and her husband live in Derbyshire and have five sons and two daughters. Marianne married at 17. She was presented on a Monday, her debut ball was on Thursday, and she was engaged on Friday. She and her husband have three boys and three girls and spend the majority of their time in Sussex. Katherine married at 20. She and her husband own a horse breeding operation in Kent. They have three wild boys. You'll forgive me for not giving you more particulars, I'm sure."

"I should tell you that Mr. Bennet never got over his daughters' disappearance. Every time he met someone named Elizabeth or Mary or Katherine who could possibly be the right age to be his daughter and realized that she wasn't, he died a little more inside. It's funny," continued Gardiner, "in Autumn of 1811, a woman named Elizabeth Darcy visited in the neighborhood. She and her husband were gone by the time my family and I arrived at Christmas, but Bennet confided in me that Mrs. Darcy was exactly what he imagined his Lizzy would have grown up to be and that it did his heart good to see a young couple as well suited and she and her husband were."

The duke stared at Gardiner for several seconds. "Indeed," he replied.

After several moments of silence, Gardiner thanked the duke for his time and, after his carriage was called, departed for home with a much lighter heart than when he had arrived in Mayfair. Over dinner, he told his wife and daughter what he had learned about Lizzy, Mary, and Kitty. He kept Lizzy's married name to himself, however. It wouldn't do to provide temptation. The family discussed what they should tell Jane and Mr. Collins. The consensus was that Jane deserved to know that the girls were safe, but no one wanted to be the one to ruin her memories of her mother. In the end, the Gardiners decided that, if Jane ever asked, they would tell her what they knew, but, if not, they would remain silent. Jane Collins never asked.

The old duke tossed Grace Phillips's diary into the fire and watched until it burnt to ashes. He never revealed what he had learnt about the origins of the three little girls who had so brightened his family's lives.

The End.


End file.
